Crossing Time
by Cadaverous Apples
Summary: A duo of Caspian X and Susan Pevensie drabbles, chronicling the little moments that we didn't get to see. Written for the casue ldws community on livejournal.
1. I: Laughter

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Crossing Time

**Words:** 300-500

**Prompt:** Laughter

**Extra: **Warm-Up Round

* * *

Susan Pevensie was grudgingly accepting the fact that she was lost.

It had been gradual: first she had been walking down the well-trodden paths in Aslan's How, following Trumpkin's directions to the room that contained the supplies for fletching arrows. But one of her new allies had a nasty sense of humor, stashing all the materials in some hidden niche deep in the bowels of the structure so that it was impossible to find without a map. Unfortunately for Susan, the status of High Queen of Narnia simply didn't come pre-equipped with a map of the How.

Scowling to herself, Susan refrained from using some of the more improper words that she had learned at St. Finbar's. After all, a Queen didn't swear.

No matter how much she wanted to.

"Honestly," she muttered instead, kicking at the floor angrily as she turned another corner that yielded a hallway that looked identical to the last, "You'd think they'd bother putting signs up. Or maybe scratch on the walls, 'Armory This Way.'"

"High Queen?" a hesitant voice asked, startling her out of her reverie. She glanced up sharply, hand automatically twitching for her quiver before realizing that she didn't have it and that she recognized the voice.

"Caspian?" she questioned incredulously, forgetting etiquette at the sight of his sheepish grin as he walked closer. The torchlight flickered over his features, casting a golden glow that brought out streaks of fire in his hair and made her breath catch in her throat.

_Stop it, _she told herself firmly. _You shouldn't encourage this when you know it can't work. _

"Good evening, High Queen Susan," Caspian finally said when he was close enough, inclining his head towards her.

The situation struck her as absurd. Here she was, lost somewhere in what was little more than a dignified cave, and he was acting as if they had casually passed each other in the halls of Cair Paravel. His decorum and manners were a welcome change, but she couldn't control the giggle that escaped her lips.

At first he looked stunned, as if she had done something far more unexpected than laugh. But then Susan caught sight of the way his lips were curving into a smile and knew that the surprise had been pleasant.

"Good evening, Prince Caspian," she replied formally, dropping into a curtsy. "A fine night to traverse these ancient halls, is it not?" His lips quirked even further into a grin as he dropped all pretences.

"You're lost, aren't you?" he questioned with a chuckle. Susan sniffed imperiously.

"Of course not. I'm merely…exploring."

She gave him a look that defiantly dared him to challenge her. Instead, he laughed, a deep, rolling laugh that made her want to creep inside of him and luxuriate in the vibrations.

"Of course, Queen Susan. Let's…'explore' together back up to the main halls."

The look she shot him wasn't enough to quench the infectious grin that seemed to jump from his face to hers.

* * *

**A/N:** This is my first foray into a non-HP fandom, so you guys are going to have to let me know how I do. :) These are going to be a series of drabbles for the casue_ldws (Caspian/Susan Last Drabble Writer Standing, for a translation) community on livejournal, which I joined on a lark. There should be a drabble up on average every week after the voting process.

All mistakes I make are mine, since my normal beta is mostly HP, and they're short enough that I don't want to bother her.

Thanks!

Roma


	2. II: A memory

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Crossing Time

**Words: **400-500

**Prompt: **A memory

**Extra: **It must be written in the third person from Caspian's point.

* * *

He sometimes wondered if he was insane.

It wouldn't be unlikely; after all, he _did _live through a war, and he had always been told that wars could sometimes mess people up in the head.

But this…this was hell. War had been a different kind of hell. This was a new hell, designed with Caspian X's specific unending torture in mind. He knew that she had been there, along with her siblings; the people still spoke of their bravery as if they were gods rather than children younger than he was.

He knew she had left. A heart-wrenching farewell that had the entire kingdom in tears over the loss of their Kings and Queens of old. Late at night, he'd stay up remembering that moment, when she threw caution to the winds and swept him up in a beautiful but horrifically brief kiss that burned him from his lips to his toes.

But it seemed as if no one else remembered this happening. Whenever he'd mention it to Trumpkin, the red dwarf would glance down at perpetually muddy boots and abruptly change the subject. This would happen with Reepicheep, Trufflehunter, and even Doctor Cornelius, his mentor. They would look to the ground in shame, and change the subject, embarrassed that they had a king who would create such wild fantasies of the High Queen.

Did it happen?

Did he want to know?

It was entirely possible that he _had _made it up in his brain, out of a desire to hold onto something of hers that no one could take away. Something that was his, entirely his, since he had created it. Did that make him insane? To want someone so badly that he softened her departure by imagining her granting him the privilege of pressing his unworthy lips to her exquisitely lovely ones?

No, that didn't make him insane. It made him a mad, crazy, deluded, irrational lunatic, but it didn't make him _insane. _Insane was simply a word that wasn't appropriate when applied to a situation involving her.

But then he'd remember the glances. The pitying glances that one gives a monarch grieving over his lost love that never was. _Poor Caspian, _he'd hear them whisper, _still mourning over the High Queen. It's a shame, _another would whisper, _that the King would squander his life over the memory of someone that will never return. _

He was in a constant state of having his heart ripped out over and over again, and he didn't know how to escape it. Remembering her kiss abated the pain, but it would inevitably return. Thinking about how he might have made it up brought a different pain, a more depressing pain that cut just as deeply, because he'd realize that he'd created something out of nothing for his own personal needs, pervading her memory.

But then he would realize that it was worth it.

Because sometimes he thought that insanity was a small price to pay for a memory of Susan.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so somewhere along the way the moderator of the livejournal community just up and probably died (which is morbid to think about, really), but the community collapsed before even the first round was completed. I've been sitting on this since _March _because it still had to go through the voting process, but since the community is all gone now I figured I might as well post this and then mark this story as completed since I'm certainly not going to be continuing writing these without the incentive I had before.

I hope this drabble makes sense. It's a little bit (okay, a lot) different than the first one, but I really liked the way it turned out. Thoughts?

Thank you for all who have read these two short drabbles! I'm sorry there weren't more.

Roma


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